


Secrets, Lies, and the Art of Being Immortal

by forever_ioand_ever



Category: Forever (TV), Secrets and Lies (US TV)
Genre: Forever Crossover Ficathon, Gen, Post Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_ioand_ever/pseuds/forever_ioand_ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Andrea Cornell stumbles upon a case eerily similar to that of Tom Murphy, she has to go investigate and, once and for all, serve the justice the real killer deserves. It just so happens that this new case is being investigated by Jo and Hanson, and of course that means Henry, too. Post-finale for both Forever and Secrets and Lies, season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets, Lies, and the Art of Being Immortal

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't watched the US version of Secrets and Lies and are planning on it and don't want the end to be spoiled for you then please stop reading, go binge-watch the 10 episodes of S&L, then return and read because you'll be ticked with the end and you'll likely want my version of the resolution. Otherwise, merry reading!

_2018 ___

__She really shouldn't be doing this._ _

__Then again, she wasn't exactly one to listen to her superiors. Especially when she wanted to prove a point._ _

__The detective took a quick look over her shoulder and, confirming that the room was empty, quickly typed her query into the search bar. The usual spattering of files popped up, and as always, she scrolled through the information she already knew by heart, and in fact had mostly entered into the database herself._ _

__She stopped short when she saw the last one. None of the names were familiar, none except that of her query. The file hadn't been touched except for a few edits by the original owner. She hovered her mouse over the title, hesitated for just a moment. Once she opened this, she could never go back. She'd waited four and a half years for this, wishing all the while it would never happen yet knew something like this was inevitable. And having had that knowledge, she knew what she had to do._ _

__In less than a second, the file popped open on her screen. The words began to blur together as she read the article, blurring from the fiery red anger edging in on her vision. If only he hadn’t taken the fall for it, none of this would have happened._ _

__And now, she had to fly up to New York City and make sure that this time, justice would be served._ _

__***********************************************************************************************************_ _

__The receptionist looked up from his desk to see a tall, stern-looking brunette waiting impatiently in front of him. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she stared down at him from the corner of her eagle-sharp eyes._ _

__“Can I help you?” He stammered, shakily putting down his mug of break-room coffee._ _

__The woman looked to her phone, then returned her steely glare to him. “I need to speak with Detectives Martinez and Hanson. I have some information about a case.”_ _

__“I’ll, ah, I’ll page them.” He quickly turned his attention from the intimidating woman and to the dial pad of his desk phone._ _

__The woman observed the nervous receptionist as he placed the call into the homicide department. The amount of jittering he did, either he was fairly new to the job or he had quite the hangover. Judging from the blackness of coffee in the mug along with the copious fresh coffee-cup rings on his desk, it was likely the latter._ _

__The receptionist pushed his dark-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, pausing to irritate a persistent spot of acne. The woman drew back her red-glossed lip in disgust. He sighed and set down the phone, taking a swig of coffee before addressing the woman again._ _

__“Fifth floor, second door on the right, someone will meet you in there.” He remained tense, thinking that she might somehow reprimand him just by her very nature. Her “thank you,” while sounding a bit sarcastic, was not anything more than annoyed at worst, and she turned to the elevator, leaving him to sigh in relief and down the rest of his third cup of coffee._ _

__****************************************************************************************************_ _

__The elevator doors opened on a mess of a hallway. The woman stepped off and chose the rightmost path, hoping to God that the second door was labeled “Homicide.” Thankfully, it was, and she pushed open the wooden door to reveal an even messier room of cubicles, surrounded by the one-way mirrored glass indicative of questioning rooms._ _

__What she did not see was someone to guide her to Martinez and/or Hanson. But she was a capable human being, surely she could locate a detective in a bullpen. That was, after all, her job back home. Since she’d been promoted to lieutenant, she’d gotten a lot better lay of her own bullpen than she’d had as a detective. Surely she could find her way around this admittedly smaller space._ _

__“Jo!” A man around her age rushed past her, his scarf irresponsibly hitting the woman in the arm as he passed. She curiously watched the Briton as he enthusiastically explained something to a confused-looking detective. After a minute of medical gibberish, he finally got around to applicable evidence, something about blunt-force trauma to the head and the arc of the wound being inconsistent with the current suspect. The woman almost approached the two at this point, but stopped herself, reminding herself that there was probably a lot of blunt-force trauma to the heads of murder victims in New York City._ _

__She waited until the British doctor and his flying coattails and scarves were gone from the bullpen before approaching the desk of the detective he’d been speaking to. The younger brunette was arched over the paperwork that the doctor had given her, reading the pertinent lines and keeping her place with the pen hovering along above the words. She kept tucking a shoulder-length clump of hair behind her ear for it to keep falling back down again. Only when the woman was right next to the detective’s desk did she notice the nameplate. Jo Martinez._ _

__The woman tapped her fingers on Martinez’ desk, inching them into the detective’s field of vision. When Martinez finally jumped back in surprise, the woman introduced her mission._ _

__“Are you the Detective Martinez working the Crawf—I mean, Derrick Jameson case?”_ _

__Jo slid her chair back, curiously eyeing the woman looking down at her with a no-nonsense air of confidence. “Yes,” she nodded slowly._ _

__The woman leaned a hand on Jo’s desk. “I have some information that is extremely important to finding out what happened to the victim.”_ _

__“Alright,” Jo leaned back in her chair, making eye contact with another detective across the room and motioning to him to get an interrogation room ready. The man, presumably Hanson, gave a nod of his head and rose from his desk to claim one of the empty glass-walled institutional-gray rooms. “Can you give me an idea of what it is you know?”_ _

__The woman rolled her eyes, as though revealing sensitive information about murder were child’s play. “I know who your killer is, Detective. And I know exactly how to catch her.”_ _

__********************************************************************************************************_ _

__Jo, Hanson, and the woman were all seated in the interrogation room, the NYPD detectives with their coffee mugs as a feeble way to dispel the interrogative atmosphere of the room. They had offered their informant something as well, but she refused, which to Jo seemed quite consistent with her character for the three minutes she’d known the woman._ _

__Jo clicked her pen against the table and flipped her notebook open to a fresh page, while Hanson shuffled the contents of the manila case folder._ _

__“Could we start with your name and your connection to the case?” Jo poised the pen over the pristine white paper._ _

__The woman crossed her arms, resisting the urge to stand and pace around the room as was her usual routine in a questioning. The roles were reversed this time, she reminded herself. She was the interviewee, not the interviewer._ _

__“Lieutenant Andrea Cornell, homicide, Charlotte-Mecklenburg PD. I prosecuted the father of one of your persons of interest in a similar investigation four and a half years ago. You may have come across the fact that Abigail Crawford’s father Ben is currently serving a life sentence for the murder of a young boy by the name of Tom Murphy.”_ _

__Hanson cocked his head. “And how is that pertinent to our case?”_ _

__“There are a number of similarities between the Murphy and Jameson cases. Both died from repeated blunt-force trauma to the head, both bodies were found near a river, and both victims had a connection to one of the killer’s parents.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, I think you might be mistaken,” Jo put down the pen and looked at Cornell. “Derrick Jameson has no connection that we know of to Ben Crawford’s parents. His ex-wife and daughter, yes, but not his parents.”_ _

__“You’re not mistaken, detective.” Cornell smiled. “You simply assume that the man convicted of Tom Murphy’s murder was convicted justly. Ben Crawford is no murderer. He’s simply a man who was too blinded by love to see that his daughter was.”_ _

__“You mean _Abigail Crawford _murdered a five-year-old when she was _twelve?” _______

______“Eleven, actually,” Cornell corrected causally. “Her birthday was a month after the investigation began.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And do you have evidence to prove any of this?” Hanson asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______Cornell pulled a few orange-cased DVDs out of her bag, passing them to the detectives. They couldn’t make sense of the code on written on the cases beyond the fact that it was a police-department organizational code._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Testimony from Ben’s older daughter, Natalie, confirming that he knew Abby was the murderer and that he planned to take the fall for her, along with a few recordings of interrogations between myself and Ben. Crime-scene analysis confirming that a female with an average height of Abby’s, at the time, was the most likely suspect._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Tom Murphy was a threat to Abigail’s family. He was symbolically the reason Ben and his wife Christy were getting divorced. Abigail’s skewed logic presumed that, with Tom gone, her family would return to normal. However, her actions only accelerated her family’s destruction. From what I read in your case file, Jameson was close to proposing to Christy. From my previous experience, Abby saw Jameson as a threat to her new normal, that of just her and Christy as a family, and removed him the only way she knew how—”_ _ _ _ _ _

______*************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _

______“This is based on a ton of conjecture, Jo. Are you sure we can trust this Cornell chick?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike Hanson leaned up against the wall of the interrogation room, taking a sip of his now-cold coffee. He watched as Jo loaded the first of the evidence tapes that Lieutenant Cornell had given them into her laptop’s CD drive. The computer whirred to life and presented a simple DVD menu consisting of “Play” and “Eject.” Jo chose the former, and an image of a younger but not any less intimidating Cornell filled the screen._ _ _ _ _ _

______The detectives watched the progression of Cornell’s questioning and Ben’s slide from vehement denial to fear and anxiety, the spark of sudden hope that both he and Cornell knew he was innocent, and the surprising calm with which he delivered his unexpected confession._ _ _ _ _ _

______About halfway through the proceedings, Henry entered the room with what was probably more meta-analysis on the body of Derrick Jameson, but instead of sharing his findings, found himself enraptured by the secrets and lies surrounding Cornell’s five-year-old case._ _ _ _ _ _

______About a half-hour earlier, the detectives had dismissed Cornell, promising to contact her if her hunch was correct and Abby Crawford’s murderous side had struck again, had it ever struck in the first place. Jo was quick to believe the lieutenant’s story, but Hanson remained hesitant; thus far they had as much reason to believe Abigail Crawford was the killer as was a sedentary brick wall. Admittedly, Jo hadn’t had a chance to debrief Hanson on Henry’s new conclusions regarding the head trauma of the victim, but nonetheless, Cornell’s insistence on Abigail as their killer was tenuous at best._ _ _ _ _ _

______“He knows who did it.” Henry commented as the video ended with Ben Crawford’s mugshot. He stepped into the room and leaned over the table next to Jo, his scarf inadvertently brushing her hand. “It was someone he loved dearly, that he would take the fall. Though he had no idea of the brutality of the killing, you could see it in how he looked at the detective when she mentioned the six blows. Which, oddly enough, is the same as Derrick Jameson.” He turned to Jo. “Who was that, by the way?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ben Crawford,” Jo said slowly, almost as if it were a question, pointing to the sign he held below his emotionless face in the mug shot._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not _him _,” Henry sighed. “The detective. Who was she?”___ _ _ _ _ _

________“Lieutenant Andrea Cornell, Charlotte PD.” Hanson offered with a hint of disdain. “She came in here earlier, says she thinks she knows who Jameson’s killer is.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Henry took a seat in the metal chair he’d sat in long ago, on that fateful day he was questioned for murdering the subway conductor. “Please, detectives, enlighten me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You were right about his supposedly taking the fall for someone he loved.” Jo explained as she popped open the CD drive and switched one DVD for another. “According to Cornell, the real killer in that case was his youngest daughter, Abigail. Instead, he took the blame and his wife, Christy, took off with Abigail to parts unknown. That is, until now. Jameson’s fiancée and Crawford’s ex-wife are one and the same, which means that the same Abigail is involved in both cases. With the similarities in the location of the body, manner of death, and connection to a close family member of Abigail’s, Cornell believes that our killer is the same as the killer in this instance.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Abigail Crawford.” Henry said in tandem with Jo. “Christy’s sixteen-year-old daughter… This does fit with my theory that the killer was a woman—although it could just as easily have been Christy herself. Both do have a connection to a convicted murderer and likely have experience with questioning by law enforcement, which is why neither broke under pressure from the interviews we conducted at the outset of the case.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Which doesn’t get us any further than we already were.” Hanson came to the table and took a seat as well. “Christy and Abigail are our only two female suspects anyway, so no matter who Ben was protecting, it was likely our killer. Hopefully this testimony from their other daughter, Natalie, can clear things up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Yet another DVD whirred to life inside the laptop, and as the disc spun around and around, Natalie’s testimony of the day her father discovered Abby’s guilt was woven together so seamlessly and honestly that the trio couldn’t help but believe the sweet-seeming sixteen-year-old they had interviewed a few days earlier was simply a façade for a cold-blooded killer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________**************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Nice job there, Abigail.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The teen stopped in her tracks, whipping her head around to look for the source of the words she’d just heard behind her. Alleys didn’t normally make her nervous, but when addressed directly out of the darkness, even the most hardened of souls has a tendency to jump._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She almost went on without verbally acknowledging the voice, but curiosity got the better of her, and Abby found herself asking who had called out to her from the darkness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________From the shadows of the brick buildings came a dark figure, shrouded by a trench coat and an outdated newsboy cap. He slowly approached Abby, all the while nodding to himself. As he got closer, she could make out an approving smile on his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Lovely to finally meet you in the flesh. I’ve heard a lot about your little schemes to keep your family together, and I have to say, I’m impressed. It took me centuries to perfect what you’ve been able to do in less than a score.” The man inched closer to her ear, his breath warming her neck and sending chills down her spine at the same time. “One piece of advice: Don’t club them in the head next time. Cops hate variety—it makes it ever harder for them to catch you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Abby shoved the man off of her, pushing him into the side of a Dumpster covered in graffiti. “Who are you and what do you want with me?!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The man brushed himself off from the fall back, dusting flakes of rust from the back of his coat. “Suffice it to say we have a common interest in bloodshed for our benefit.” He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder, brushing her blond hair back from her eyes. “I like your, how do they say it now, spunk. You’re a special one, Abby Crawford.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Abby drew back, but a fire was lit in her eyes. “If you know so much about me, what makes you think I can’t kill you right now?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m perfectly aware you can kill me. I just happen to not be threatened by something as paltry as death.” He took a step back, then another, and another, until he was re-encased in shadow. “Go on, kill me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Abby, however, ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Which was exactly what Adam had expected._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She was a strange bird, this Abby Crawford, and hopefully he’d have the time to unravel her mysteries before the NYPD, along with his fellow immortal, were able to catch her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Andrea Cornell was not the least bit surprised when she received a call on her cell phone from the NYPD homicide department a mere four hours after she had offered her assistance. She immediately made her way back to the 11th precinct where Jo, Hanson, and the scarved man from earlier were all gathered in the same interrogation room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Cornell offered her hand to the man._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Henry Morgan, assistant medical examiner.” He took her hand in his own. Neither found it strange that he was the only one making an introduction. Cornell took a seat across from Jo, who had since closed her laptop and removed all CMPD evidence tapes, which she passed back to Cornell._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“We’re all on the same page with this, am I correct?” Cornell looked about the room to her new colleagues. She didn’t want to jump the gun on anything, but she couldn’t help being the smallest bit excited that Abby would finally be brought to justice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“The combination of my medical analysis along with your experience and evidence leads us to believe that Abigail Crawford is indeed our killer.” Henry said it with as much control as he could, but, even though it wasn’t the same Abigail, he struggled to use the name of his beloved in such a morbid way. “What remains is finding a way to specifically pinpoint this case on her.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Which is where I come in,” Cornell smiled. “Abigail hasn’t seen me since a few months after her father was incarcerated. This was for a court order concerning her sister’s statements about the true nature of the case. A few legal complications rendered us unable to prosecute her, leaving her and Christy free to move away as soon as the divorce proceedings were cleared._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I say all that to say that, even though I have no jurisdiction here, I need to be personally involved with what we do. Seeing me again will put them both on edge, and they might say things to me that they wouldn’t think to say to either of you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You want us to bring in both Abigail and Christy for further questioning?” Jo confirmed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Exactly,” Cornell nodded. “Bring them both in, separate rooms if Christy will allow it, and make sure they both see that I’m here. Wait about a half hour before questioning either, then I will come in with you and see if they break from thinking I’ve already spoken with the other. I’m positive that Christy will, so we should question her first. Abigail will need a longer time of uncertainty before she mixes up her stories.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Might I suggest something?” Henry looked to the Carolinian. Cornell slightly raised an eyebrow in surprise, just enough to be noticed by the perceptive doctor. “Perhaps an object would trigger her memories of the first crime. I believe you mentioned in your case notes a certain toy that was found near the deceased?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cornell looked to Jo and Hanson to see if they were alright with the medical examiner barging in on their interrogation methods. Neither seemed to be fazed by his interjection into a police realm that was not his to deal with, and Jo even leaned across the table and whispered that following his hunches and suggestions usually served them well. Cornell relented, though anything but willingly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I suppose. But even if that would work, there’s no way I can get that specific toy; it’s still in evidence in Charlotte.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You didn’t seem to have a problem with the tapes,” Hanson motioned to the DVDs still sitting on the table._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I may have told a few lies of my own to get these to you,” Cornell offered evasively. “Besides, we need to bring in Abigail before anyone else is harmed; we can’t wait for red tape and the postal system to bring us a plastic tank.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I suppose I could find something,” Henry offered, surprising Cornell, but again, not fazing his coworkers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Tank or no tank, we still have Lieutenant Cornell,” Jo commanded the attention back to the situation at hand, directing her next comment to the Carolinian. “And you should be enough to get Christy and Abby to talk.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cornell nodded in approval, a smug smile on her face. If the Crawfords thought they could run away from their secrets and lies, they had another thing coming._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***********************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I assume you’ve heard about Abigail Crawford’s past. Such a shame, it is,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Adam shook his head in dismay, a completely false dismay that both he and Henry acknowledged. He pulled a small piece of bread from his baguette and chewed thoughtfully._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“A decent man like yourself shouldn’t know anything about that,” Henry rolled his eyes, raising a steaming spoonful of soup to his lips and gently cooling it with his own breath before partaking of it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Neither of them were quite sure how it had happened, but every other Tuesday since Adam’s “miraculous recovery” from the air embolism, he and Henry met for lunch at a small café a few blocks from the precinct. Perhaps it had started with Adam having vital information on a case, but it had somehow evolved into an actual cordial gathering of shared stories, commiseration, and, yes, even laughter. However, cordiality aside, they still would verbally joust with each other, and for all his openness over the past few years, Adam’s two millennia had allowed him to master the art of elusiveness, and as such, he could still be the mysterious, chilling voice Henry had first known. Which he was doing right now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh, come now, Henry. I am a certified psychiatrist. I should be aware of sociopathic serial killers in the city.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“More like as a fellow sociopa-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Adam raised a hand. “Now, now, we don’t need to unnecessarily frighten the patrons of this fine establishment.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Very well,” Henry sighed, setting his spoon back in the bowl of broccoli cheddar. “As someone with _similar interests _, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had managed to meet her.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“As a matter of fact, I have. And let me just say that sixteen years has nothing on two thousand. I gave her the offer I once offered to you, you know, back when we were on animositous terms. Having done her fair share of it in the past five years, I was surprised she didn’t just ki-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Henry pulled out what he would’ve described as his ‘disappointed father’ stare, halting Adam in his verbal tracks. “I do believe if you finish that thought, you’ll be the one unnecessarily frightening the patrons of this fine establishment.” Adam raised a brow in defiance, but maintained his silence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“While I remain quite curious as to how you managed to track her down and find out about her past, what exactly was her reaction to your offer?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Terror. I admit, I’m not the best when it comes to secretive encounters in dark alleys, but I thought someone with her psyche would have a better reaction than throwing me against a Dumpster and running away when I offered her the opportunity. She’s probably wired like me—getting a lot more enjoyment out of it when she’s the one in control.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Henry’s attention was focused somewhere in the annals of his mind, his stare blankly fixed on the reverse-monogram of the café’s logo on the window beside him. “Control…” He suddenly stood, gathering his coat and scarf from the back of the petite wooden chair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Where are you going?” Adam demanded as Henry flipped his indigo scarf around his neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m off to catch a murderer.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Adam stood, trying to catch him before he left the café. “Wait! Henry! You…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The door shut, leaving Adam to stare in defeat at the half-finished bowls of soup on the table. Rolling his eyes, he fished a bill out of his pocket and slapped it on the table. “You forgot to pay.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________This was the most ready Andrea Cornell had ever been in her life. Her posture was as unbending as her persistence in serving justice once and for all on Abigail Crawford as she waited beside Jo’s empty desk. It was the perfect vantage point for both her to see the Crawford women as they were brought in and, more importantly, for Christy and Abby to see her. A smug smile crossed her face at the thought of how terrified they would be. _Reasonably terrified. After all, one of you is a killer and wanted fugitive and the other is harboring said wanted fugitive. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Earlier, Cornell and the detectives had rehearsed how exactly she would figure into the investigation. It was decided that she was called in when Jo and Hanson noticed the similarities between this case and Tom Murphy’s, thinking that one or the other was _imitating _Ben. At least, that was their cover story. It was only fitting that a few white lies would be used in the exposing of the blackest lie of murder most foul.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Jo and Hanson had then left to retrieve Christy and Abby, leaving Cornell alone in the buzzing bullpen. She had thoughts of introducing herself to the precinct’s Lieutenant Reece, who she hadn’t yet the chance to meet, but was stopped by a combination of the thought that the detectives would be back any minute, and the sudden appearance of the quirky ME yet again, who for some reason was clutching a soup spoon. He caught her eye and rushed over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Lieutenant Cornell,” Henry caught his breath, still taking no note of the fact that he’d absconded with his spoon from the café, “have you seen the detective?” He nodded to Jo’s nameplate, which currently had a glare from the fluorescent ceiling lights running through the “RTI” of her name._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“She and Detective Hanson left about fifteen minutes ago to pick up Christy and Abby.” A slight scowl came across the lieutenant’s face; she still hadn’t warmed up to the idea of an ME involved outside of the lab. “Why?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I have an idea.” Cornell sighed internally, wishing she hadn’t asked that last question, as Henry began into a long-winded spiel that seemed to have less to do with the case and more to do with ancient aristocracy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“In ancient Rome, how did the majority of Caesars come to the throne?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Deadpan stare from Cornell._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“It... it’s not rhetorical.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cornell turned up her upper lip. “Uh, by killing the current one?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Precisely.” Henry’s eyes lit up. He began pacing across the small space of carpet between Jo’s desk and the detective’s beside her. “Specifically, in AD 53 and 54, rivers of blood were shed in order for Nero to take the throne. Who, though, instigated the bloodshed?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________A second deadpan stare from Cornell, although admittedly this time Henry could at least see the cogs attempting to turn in her mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Still not rhetorical.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I’m aware, Dr. Morgan,” Cornell plastered on the sarcasm. “It just seems that my knowledge of Roman history is lacking.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The doctor looked quite annoyed, though Cornell hadn’t an idea why. It wasn’t as if anyone remembered what happened to the emperors after their final exam in ancient history._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Not Nero himself, his violent side did not manifest until after he took the throne. The murderer that led him there was none other than Julia Agrippina, his mother. She poisoned every possible heir to ensure that her son took the throne. At that time, Nero was too young to rule, which would have allowed Agrippina the power of Rome. However, her story ended when Nero turned the tables and had her poisoned.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cornell shifted her feet, her gaze squarely on the lecturing medical examiner. “And _how _does ancient Rome connect to the here and now?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Simple. Abigail Crawford is our modern Agrippina, using murder to assert her superiority and gain a tenuous control of her empire, that of her family.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Wouldn’t that make us Nero?” Cornell raised her brow in doubt. Henry lowered his shoulders in defeat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I admit, the metaphor has its flaws. My point is not on the police, but the killer, who was previously profiled as an emotionless psychopath who killed without remorse, and perhaps that all is still true, but we have commonality in more than just method. Commonality in method only would suggest what I previously said, that she is simply a psychopath, yet with these two cases, we find a commonality of motive. Both Tom Murphy and Derrick Jameson were significantly altering Abby’s family structure. She saw them as threats to her ‘kingdom’ persay, and thus removed them. I tend to think that the similarity in method came about from the sheer fact that she managed to get away with it the first time, so logically, that method was infallible and she would yet again manipulate her way out of the situation. What she failed to bargain for was a detective so persistent in serving justice that she would travel 600 miles to ensure it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Abigail had this station under her control. What she didn’t account for was you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Cornell wasn’t sure how to respond to Henry’s very long-winded and possibly non-complementary compliment, nor did she have to, because at that exact moment, the desk sergeant gave her a nod. They were here._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Cornell re-assumed her confident, almost arrogant stance, watching the entryway unfazingly, preparing to savor every moment of the next two hours. Starting…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________There you are… Thought you could hide from your past, did you? ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Christy Crawford’s face paled as soon as she saw Cornell. She desperately looked up at Hanson as he led her into the interrogation room, her eyes begging that this was a mistake. He shut the door behind her, leaving her alone in the clinical metal room. She told herself it was just her imagination, they’d left Cornell behind with every other terrible moment of 2014 in Charlotte. There was absolutely no way that she would have found out about this and come up here._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________She turned to the one-way mirror, putting all her energy and focus into seeing beyond the reflection and into the bullpen. She finally managed to make out a window, then a couple desks, then three human forms. The one with the bun was unmistakably Andrea Cornell._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Cornell stole a glance at the window into Christy’s room and, when she saw the woman peering out at her, gave a wave and a smug smile. She didn’t wait to see Christy’s reaction, but turned her attention to Jo, who was bringing in an older but strangely unchanged Abigail Crawford._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Unlike her mother, Abigail didn’t seem fazed to see Cornell. In fact, at making eye contact with the detective, Abby’s face managed to set in a resolution even more solid than that which she had had upon entering the station. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. Neither would Andrea Cornell. And it was only a matter of time before a final victor would be declared._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________**************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________After a tense half hour, at least for the Crawford women, Jo and Hanson opened the door to Christy’s room. Cornell waited until the three were as comfortably situated as possible before making her entrance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” She closed the door behind her, never turning her face from Christy. “You do know why I’m here, right, Christy?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The accused made no motion in affirmation or denial. Her eyes widened, whether in shock or fear, Cornell didn’t know and honestly didn’t care. Either way, the situation was going according to plan._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It’s a pretty interesting story.” Cornell took a step closer to the table, the click of her heels echoing in the room. “Imagine my surprise when I not only came across a case file that was strikingly similar to that of Tom Murphy, but just happened to be connected to a Christy and Abigail Crawford.” She leaned her arms on the table, nose to nose with Christy. “I simply had to offer my expertise to the fine police force of this great city.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Jo cast a glance at Cornell, a little miffed that she was messing with her and Hanson’s “good cop-bad cop” routine. With Cornell, it was more like “good cop-bad cop-mad and increasingly vengeful cop.”  
“Lieutenant Cornell shared with us the details of that case, and we agree with her belief that your ex-husband is innocent.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What… what does that have to do with Derrick?” Surprise came across Christy’s features. “Wait, you think I killed him? And Tom?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Cornell crossed her arms, tapping her nails on the metal table. “It’s always a possibility.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Christy slammed her palms on the table in protest. “But you told me I wasn’t a suspect!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“In light of this new evidence, I accept the fact that I might have been wrong. I changed my mind about Ben, remember?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Christy shrank back in her chair, away from the detectives and their prying questions that she knew would break open her walls and spill her secrets out on the cold metal table. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill either of them.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Ya gotta see this from our side, Christy,” Hanson offered. “We’ve got two extremely similar cases here. So similar that it couldn’t be accidental, especially when both cases have two of the same suspects. If you’re telling us the truth, that only leaves your daughter as a suspect.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Christy looked to her lap, shielding the fear in her eyes from the prying curiosity of the detectives. She barely spoke, but what she whispered was the tipping point of the case. “She never meant to hurt him.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Cornell leaned forward, her eyes piercing Christy’s as the troubled woman dared to look up at her. “What did you say, Christy?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________It was as if Cornell’s words were the final march around the slowly eroding walls of Christy Crawford’s psyche, and the trumpet sound that finally sent them tumbling down. There was a clarity in her eyes, a clarity that hadn’t been there before. A clarity that, at long last, these secrets and lies would have to end._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Abby never meant to hurt him.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The detectives shared a look, Jo taking the initiative to clarify. “Are we talking about Tom or Derrick?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Tom.” Christy said with certainty. “I… She… It was an accident. She told us the whole story one night at dinner. I don’t remember the exact details, but something about the two of them running away to bring their fathers back… it was complicated logic to follow… and somehow she accidentally hit him with the flashlight and panicked…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“So she hit him five more times,” Cornell deadpanned._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Every last drop of blood drained from Christy’s face, either because she genuinely believed that Abby’s killing Tom was an accident and thus was floored by the true nature of the case, or, the more likely of options, Christy already knew that Tom’s murder was premeditated and intentional, and even in admitting her daughter’s guilt, was still trying to protect her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________If only I’d gotten him to the river, none of this would’ve happened… ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“You don’t want to lose another person you love, do you, Christy?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________The mother swallowed her pride and burned down her protective instincts, and finally admitted that Abby had intended to drown Tom before resorting to the more gruesome measures._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________*******************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Abby was another story entirely. No matter what tactic Jo, Hanson, or Cornell used, they got nary a word from the young murderess, except for a few snarky comebacks to the effect of the police having no idea what they were talking about. However, with Christy’s confirmation of Abby’s premeditation in the first case, along with Henry’s analysis of Jameson’s body, they had a solid case against her. Before she was officially arrested, the detectives sat and filled out the necessary paperwork—she was already under their custody, anyway, and there were more than enough people to stop her from fleeing if she attempted to do so. No one noticed as Henry got up from the group, which wasn’t doing anything pertinent to his expertise anyhow, and ventured into the interrogation room where Abby was still being held._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He clicked the door shut behind him and turned to face her, making sure to keep himself out of view of the one-way mirror. “Why didn’t you kill him?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Abby’s laid-back posture screamed disgust. She raised a brow and curled her lip; had her hand not been cuffed, her arms likely would have been crossed. “I didn’t kill any of them, like I told you people a thousand times before.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“I’m not talking about Tom or Derrick. The man who approached you in the alley a few nights ago. Why didn’t you kill him?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He looked much, much too casual to be asking that question. Leaning back against the cold gray walls, scarf around his neck and wrapped around a finger on his left hand, an almost-smug smile on his face as his piercing gaze met her own._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“How do you know about that?” Abigail whispered, more for fear that her reply would be picked up by a hidden microphone than fright at Henry knowing about her encounter in the alley._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“I have a lot of friends in this town.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“The police have friends that skank around in dark alleys and tell teenage girls to kill them?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“You’d be surprised,” Henry smiled, placing a hand on the doorknob. “By the way, the river is quite the unreliable medium of murder. People have a tendency to come back there.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this very long thing. I really just wanted a different ending for S&L, and I knew Cornell wouldn't give up that easily... and since I had this idea long, long before Forever ended, I couldn't help but include the fine forces of the NYPD(: I, again, write my bittersweet goodbye, though I do still have another fic up my sleeve, possibly...
> 
> until we get the DVDs Matt has promised, but for new year's instead of Christmas...
> 
> Morgan(:


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